Eterno
by La Querida Mia
Summary: Oh, yes, I have watched things change. But all these things have changed with out me. I was beginning to think that now, I too, was along for the ride
1. Una Vista Del Mar

**a/n: I discovered The Mediator Series and fell in love. 'Nuff said? This is going to be _pretty_ long. It's more or less the series in Jesse's POV. I know, not very original but work with me. I'll try to throw in as many twists as I can while remaining cannon. **

Una Vista del Mar

I have watched things change. Roads were paved. Cars came and with them bright lights. A grand red dome was built, hiding the great bells of the mission. Before long even the stars, something I had once thought constant and reliable, dimmed. Time was passing without me and I was but a shadow.

If I've learned anything it's that being dead makes you think. About everything. But one of the biggest questions was _why? _There had to be a reason I was still here… some mission God wanted me to complete. So, as soon has I came to understand the extent of my powers I began stealing books and reading them. I soaked in everything, trying desperately to keep up with times. There would be a day when I would need this knowledge.

It was during this time that the O'Neil's inn fell into disrepair. I enjoyed the quiet and as morbid as it may seem my favorite place soon became the room in which I had been murdered. In the morning when the fog rolled in the ocean was beautiful. At least _that _hadn't changed… much.

But then something happened that sent my existence spiraling out of control.

A man came, bringing with him three sons. He was a carpenter, as I soon learned, and he was rebuilding the inn. They were making it their home. What followed was a summer of loud hammering, whirling of saws and the disruption of my peaceful existence. No longer could I enjoy peaceful nights watching the fog swirl, a book in my lap. No, instead I was greeted with the dull smell of dry wall and the raucous noise of working men.

It wasn't long at all before they moved in. The youngest son, David, moved into my room. I had grown so use to my solitude that I had almost forgotten that I was invisible to the living. I do believe I scared the boy on many occasions; seeing books flying across the room seemingly of their own accord does that to people, I hear. And then a woman came. Her daughter would be following shortly they said.

And I wasn't really looking forward to 'meeting' her.

From all that I had heard a juvenile delinquent was soon to replace young David in occupying my room. The youngest Ackerman's possessions were cleared away and replaced with a canopy bed, princess telephone and glass-topped dressing table. And then there were the _forget-me-nots _plastered on the wall. They seemed a bit feminine for a juvenile delinquent but many things had changed since Carmel, 1850.

When the daughter finally arrived I wasn't really surprised. She even looked the part. Straight dark hair, pale skin, ripped pants and leather jacket; what did these girls wear these days? If any woman in my time had worn that she would have been taken for a prostitute.

Yet, I was surprised. The girl smiled sweetly all through her mother's lecture of starting a new life. She seemed sincere, a little rueful and sad. When her mother left she quietly shut the door behind her and stood there for a moment. I was beginning to wonder if she was okay when…

The girl whirled and scowled, "All right. Who the hell are you?"

To say I was surprised was a great understatement. In all my years nobody, _nobody, _had been able to see me. I even turned around wondering if somebody had climbed up outside my window. No, just good old Carmel-by-the-sea as usual.

And then it set in.

"_Nombre de Dios."_

"It's no use calling on your higher power," she said as-matter-of-factly, straddling a pink-tasseled chair by the table, "In case you haven't noticed, He isn't paying a whole lot of attention to you. Otherwise, He wouldn't have left you here to fester for- What is it, a hundred and fifty years? Has it really been that long since you croaked?"

I could only stare at her blankly.

"What is… croaked?" My voice was rusty from disuse.

The delinquent rolled her eyes. "Kicked the bucket. Checked out. Popped off. Bit the dust. _Died._"

"Oh, died." My brain was churning. Maybe it was now. Maybe now was the time to put my one hundred and fifty years of purgatory to the test. I shook my head. Maybe the girl was the answer to my prayers. Maybe she would help me fulfill my purpose.

"I don't understand. I don't understand how it is that you can see me. All these years, no one has ever…"

The girl cut in, "Yeah, well, listen, the times, you know they are a-changin'. So what's your glitch?"

I got the times are changing, bit. I had already known that. But…

"Glitch?"

I notice the girl looking me up and down. "Yeah," she said, clearing her throat and swallowing. "Glitch. Problem. Why are you still here? _Why haven't you gone to the other side?"_

How could I answer that when I didn't even know? I decided to play dumb. I shook my head, "I don't know what you mean."

I must have said something that offended her because she snapped, "What do you mean, you don't know what you mean? You're _dead_. You don't belong here. You're supposed to be off doing whatever it is that happens to people after they're dead. Rejoicing in heaven, or burning in hell, or being reincarnated or ascending a plane of consciousness, or whatever. You're not supposed to be just… well, just _hanging around."_

I wasn't exactly sure what _hanging around _meant but to tell you the truth that, while I had no idea what had gotten me there, I was beginning to realize that I had kind of enjoyed my nights of solitude in my room at Mrs. O' Neil's, reading by my own glow. Why should this girl (who was starting to remind me of my eldest sister) have to change that?

"And what if I happen to like just _hanging around?"_

She seemed to be at a loss there. After a few moments a look of fixed determination shone in her green eyes. _She's quite pretty, _I couldn't help thinking in spite of myself.

"Look," she said, jumping up. "You can do all the hanging around you want, _amigo._ Slack away. I don't really care. But you can't do it here."

"Jesse," I said, not moving. I had a feeling that she had been being sardonic with the whole, _amigo _remark.

The girl arched a delicately plucked eyebrow. "What?"

"You called me _amigo_. I thought you might like to know I have a name. It's Jesse."

The girl didn't seem to care and it was starting to frustrate me. Here was the first person I had spoken in one hundred and fifty years and she was insufferable. She simply nodded in a yielding sort of way. "Right. That figures. Well, fine. Jesse, then. You can't stay here Jesse."

Funny, this had been my home for over a century and now she wanted to kick me out? I didn't even know her name.

"And you?" I said, smiling in spite of myself. Yes, the girl was insufferable but she was a person nonetheless and to her I was more than a mere shadow.

"And me, what?" she said rudely.

"What is your name?"

She glared at me, "Look. Just tell me what you want and get out. I'm hot, and I want to change clothes. I don't have time for…"

I interrupted her just as she had interrupted me earlier.

"That woman- your mother- called you Susie. Short for Susan?"

"Susannah, as in, 'don't cry for me.'"

Thankfully some things don't seem to change. I smiled. "I know that song."

She yet again made a comment that made absolutely no sense to me. I kept on smiling.

"So this is your room now, is it, Susannah?"

"Yeah," she said, "Yeah, this is my room now. So you're going to have to clear out."

I raised an eyebrow and the girl scowled. "I'm going to have to clear out. This has been my home for a century and a half. Why do I have to leave it?"

I had gotten to her; her pale face was turning a shade red. She was shaking. Normally I didn't condone the sort behavior I was now exhibiting towards the woman but I was out of my mind with disbelief and wonder. I enjoyed teasing her.

"Because, this is my room. I'm not sharing it with some dead cowboy."

Cowboy.

_Cowboy?_

I slammed my food down on the floor and stood. "I am _not _a cowboy. _Maldecirlo. Tu eres una muchacha insufrible."_

I had lost my temper and Susannah was backing away slowly. I had definitely forgotten myself.

"Whoa, Down. Down boy."

And I didn't care.

Not really concerned if I offended her or not I jabbed a finger in her face.

"My family worked like slaves to make something of themselves in this country, but never, never as a _vaquero."_

I had lost it. The mirror behind me was shaking. I knew I should stop myself but I didn't.

"Hey," she said.

And that's when she did it. She grabbed my finger. I froze, not hearing what she was saying. She had touched me. That was impossible. I had accepted the possibility that this girl could speak to me, but to touch me. And how warm her skin felt; I had not felt the warmth of another human being in a very long time.

"Now, look, Jesse. This is my room, understand? You can't stay here. You've either got to let me help you get where you're supposed to go, or you're going to have to find some other house to haunt, I'm sorry that's the way it is."

She said it slowly, enunciating each word. My finger burned.

The girl wasn't a delinquent or even remotely like my sister.

She was something else.

"Who are you? What kind of… girl are you?"

Susannah seemed to look hurt for a moment but then quickly shook her head. "I'll tell you what kind of girl I'm not. I am not the kind of girl who's looking to share her room with a member of the opposite six. Understand me? So either you move out, or I force you out. It's entirely up to you. I'll give you time to think about it. But when I get back here Jesse I want you gone."

And with that she turned around and left, leaving me standing there staring at my finger. It ached with forgotten memories.

Oh, yes, I have watched things change. Roads have been paved. Cars have come and with them bright lights. A grand red dome has been built, hiding the great bells of the mission. Before long even the stars, something I had once thought constant and reliable, had dimmed.

But all things had changed with out me.

I was beginning to think that now, I too, was along for the ride.

**a/n: review please!**


	2. La Niebla Hice Rodar

**a/n: erm…. insert disclaimer here**

_La Niebla Hice Rodar_

I needed to walk, to think, but where? My room no longer seemed to be an option. It had changed.

After several moments of staring down at my finger I decided that I wanted a place of little alteration. _En algùn lugar constante._

And that is how I ended up on the shore.

The sound of rolling waves soothed me. The beach was empty. I had chosen a place where it was too dangerous to swim, the rip current too strong. Sitting in the sand I stared out over the water. It was so blue, so never ending. Like me in a way.

_Susannah_

Susannah was different: living breathing change. She spoke too quickly, dressed like a lady of the night, and… could see _me_. Considering this she was quite… _attractive._ ButI couldn't help comparing her mentally to Maria de Silva, my fiancée from another time. Maria had been beautiful, but in a different way. Maria was proud, even to the extent of arrogance. Her hair had been several shades darker than Susannah's and had always been curled into tight ringlets. Her eyes had been brown to Susannah's green. And she had been a murderer.

Or at least someone who had plotted murder; Felix Diego was the one who did all the dirty work. Even now I'm not sure how I died. I just remember waking up, panicked, watching as Diego buried my body. Oh, how I yelled and shouted and screamed. But nobody heard me, except for the horses. They whinnied into the night. When Felix Diego rode off, taking my horse with him, I had called to my mare's name, Vienta. She didn't come. The horse I had raised from a colt didn't know me. Instead she her eyes had rolled back in terror and she reared in the air. Diego could barely restrain her. Once they were far enough away from civilization he had Vienta shot and cut up for meat. I had cried. Vienta hadn't been bred for _meat. _She had been gentle, a rare beauty.

I ran a hand threw my hair. There was no use living in the past; at least that's what I told myself. Maria and Felix were long dead, and they weren't here with me. Why should I worry?

I only wish I could get rid of that damn handkerchief Maria had given me, but it seemed to be bound to my essence. I had tried to be free of it on countless occasions and it always came back.

Shaking my head I watched as the sun began to set. It was always so beautiful. The great orange ball seemed to sink into the sea as it began its slow descent over the horizon. As it fell it cast out shades of pink, yellow and magenta light in all directions. Even after one hundred and seventy years the sunset still left me breathless.

I waited a while before deciding to venture back to my room. The moon was high in the sky and I dematerialized out onto the porch outside my, Susannah's, window. As I arrived I heard foot steps. Chancing a peek in I caught a glimpse of Susannah standing in the middle of the room, her eyes closed, sniffing the air.

After a short moment she gave a contented sigh and began to climb into bed. She clapped her hands to douse the lights, curling up into the cushions.

I looked away and sat down, my back against the house. An owl hooted in the distant. It would have been perfect if not for the distant sound of a television.

Memories of our earlier conversation drifted into my head.

"_That woman- your mother- called you Susie. Short for Susan?"_

"_Susannah, as in, 'don't cry for me.'" _

Smiling to myself I sang. "Oh, Susannah, now don't you cry for me, 'cause I come from Alabama with this banjo on my knee."

If Susannah heard me she gave no indication.

I smiled as the fog rolled around me. It was still very early in the morning and it licked my skin, or at least, the shadow of my skin. I was sitting on the porch top again. Soon the sun would be all the way up and with a sigh I realized so would Susannah.

Sure enough, minutes later I heard a muffled shriek and a thump.

"_Brrrr."_

Remembering she could see me I dematerialized and rematerialized on the roof. It was just in time. Seconds later I saw Susannah's head peek out, gaping in awe as her teeth chattered. Just as quickly I watched as her head was sucked back in. The window slammed shut. She obviously didn't enjoy the fog as much as I did.

I was in luck. Susannah didn't stick around for long; she was going to the beach. This gave me a chance to sneak in and cherish my solitude.

I needed something to read. Going downstairs into her stepfather's room I picked up a book from the shelf.

_Don Quixote. _

It was the most perfect, impractical book to cool my nerves. And he had a copy in Spanish, although considering the fact that none of the Ackerman/Simons spoke a word of Spanish it was a little odd.

Taking the book upstairs I encountered nobody but the dog, Max, who growled at me as I passed. It didn't bother me much. I had been a cat person ever since Diego's father had set his dog on me for trespassing. Even in death I still had the scar.

Settling down on the new window seat in my room I read "Don Quixote" for several hours. When I was done I satisfied myself by staring over the valley into the bay. It was a beautiful day.

For some reason "Oh, Susannah" had become trapped in my brain and I hummed it as the sun began to fade. Suddenly I heard Susannah's voice on the stairs. Materializing just above the porch I watched as she yanked to window open. I couldn't help but to laugh to myself. She was such a strange person.

And that night when the fog rolled in, I watched her sleep. As she began to shiver I looked towards the window. I loved the fog but Susannah obviously didn't. If I _had_ to share my room with her, sacrifices were going to be made. Some of them would be on my part.

So with a sigh I crossed the room and gently closed the window.

The fog remaining in the room slowly faded away.

**A/n: Read and Review…. Please!**


	3. El Tiron

_a/n: I don't own Mediator…. Need I say more?_

_ReadingLuver: Thanks! I'm glad you gave "Eterno" a chance. I know the idea is terribly overused but rereading "Shadowland" I was bothered by all of the gaps. We might not see Jesse for a hundred pages. What is he doing then? Why is he at times omniscient and at other times completely clueless? _

_Bbblfl: Well, here it is…. _

_Celuna Cirrus: Thanks! Isn't Jesse just fascinating? _

_Trisisabel: Thanks_

_Lono: Don't worry. I plan to be here for the long run. As for my Spanish, I've been studying it for the past four years. I'm still not fluent but I'm getting there. _

**-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Un Tiròn

Ghosts don't sleep. Why should we? We never get tired. We never feel fatigue. Sleep is unnecessary, just like eating and even breathing.

But as I watched Susannah sleep I couldn't help but to envy her. She looked so peaceful. Her eyes were flickering behind their lids and I wondered what she dreamt of.

I hadn't had a dream in over one-hundred and fifty years. There had been… _waking _dreams, where I'd find myself reliving my death, but even those disappeared after a short while. I was left with nothing, just a hollow feeling as I watched the world pass me by.

At the time the hollow feeling had been welcomed. At least, it seemed much friendlier than the waking dreams. In the waking dreams I watched my sisters cry, accept and then… forget. I saw Maria marry Diego. I saw the ranch fall into disrepair. Slowly they all changed. They changed from the young to the old, and I watched them whither away with excruciating inevitability. The line of De Silva's died out. It had been replaced by smatterings of the Diego clan.

But as I watched Susannah I realized that even those waking dreams would be welcomed now. The feel of Susannah's touch had instilled something into me, a longing to feel, a longing to sleep and to breathe. I wanted to eat some of my abuela's flan. I'd even go for a taste of Mercedes's horribly lopsided _pasteles tres leche. _

Yes, even the waking dreams would be welcomed.

-------

As I heard Susannah leave for school I wondered when I should confront her again. I could not go on like this, watching when she wasn't looking. It didn't feel right. It didn't feel honorable.

_When she gets home, _I decided. She might not like it but I was here to stay.

Running my hands through my hair I decided that I had to read. After finding something suitable ("The Count of Monte Christo") in David's room, I settled down on the window seat.

I had been reading for several hours when it happened.

It was gentle at first, a mild tug behind my navel. I ignored it. I wish I hadn't.

Suddenly it seemed as though somebody had punched my stomach. Foreign noises reached my ears. _There was an enormous explosion followed by a dull thud and then the pattering of tiny falling objects. _

"_Excuse me. Excuse- Good God in Heaven. Are you children hurt? Susannah are you all right?"_

The pain and the noise stopped as suddenly as it had started.

I shook my head. What had just happened? What was going on? Was Susannah hurt? I don't know why I suddenly felt so protective of her. Maybe it was because I had been unable to watch over my sisters as I should have. I had seen them hurt. I don't like seeing women, especially ones I knew in harm's way. I really I don't know why I was so concerned. All I do know is that I materialized to the Mission on the spot.

By the time I reached the school the courtyard was almost empty. On the ground under the awning was a huge block of wood. It had to have been at least ten inches thick and two feet long.

Had it fallen on Susannah's head?

No, I saw an elderly Father leading her away. She looked pale but alive. Chips of wood hung feebly from her sweater.

She was okay. Feeling relieved I wandered over to inspect the wood.

It was dry.

How had it fallen then? It clearly wasn't rotted. That wood had been there for over a hundred years. Why would it fall now?

And then I noticed a girl. She was tall, blonde and…

She was glowing.

The girl was staring intently at the block of wood as well, disgust etched clearly on her face. Muttering under her breath she turned and saw me. She stood frozen.

"Who the hell are you?"

God, those words were starting to sound familiar.

Clearing my throat I said, "Hector. Hector de Silva."

I was still unsure whether or not this girl was a friend or not. Had she been responsible for the falling wood? If she was then why was she angry at Susannah? Susannah had been here for less than a week. What could she have possibly done in that time frame to warrant such… hatred? If this girl had been really trying to kill Susannah then I didn't want her to know my… _real _name.

The girl smirked, looking down her nose. "Hector? Hmm, I'm Heather. Are you some kind of cowboy or something?"

I chose to ignore the cowboy crack for the time being. Instead I gestured towards the piece of wood.

"Your work?"

The girl looked really smug. She nodded, "You should have seen the looks on their faces. Especially that witch, Suze Simon. She looked like she wanted to strangle me. And the priest, he can see me too. Well, they can both go to…."

I made a face.

"What? You don't mean to tell me you know that­"

"I do in fact know Miss Simon and I'd be glad if you weren't trying to kill her."

Heather scowled. "I wasn't really after her you know. I wanted to get Bryce; only your little girlfriend saw me and knocked him out of the way."

I looked back at the piece of wood. So Susannah spoke quickly, spoke to the dead and was quite undeniably brave. I must tell you, I had only spoken to her once but she was growing on me nonetheless.

"Why do want to kill er… Bryce?"

Heather opened her mouth and shut it. She rolled her eyes.

"Do I really have to explain myself to you?"

And with that she dematerialized, leaving me alone in the abandoned corridor.

**a/n: Read and Review. Chapter Four: "El Fuego de Infierno" should be up Thursday or Friday. **


	4. El fuego de Infierno

**a/n: I am not Meg Cabot and therefore I don't own The Mediator. I have, however, kidnapped Jesse and am holding him hostage in my room for reviews… enjoy!**

El Fuego de Infieron

Heather was a messed up young lady. By eavesdropping on various conversations throughout the rest of the day I finally found out that the young woman had shot herself after her boyfriend, Bryce, had broken up with her. She had committed suicide.

Heather had taken her own life. She had made that choice to die while I… _I_ had had no choice in the matter.

It didn't seem fair.

--------

In all of my excitement over Heather I had forgotten that I was going to show myself to Susannah again that afternoon. Realizing my mistake I decided to wait until late at night to return to my room. Susannah would be asleep then.

Or so I had thought.

I arrived outside her window just in case and was surprised to see the light still on. Looking in I saw Susannah fastening on a tool belt (complete with screw drivers, pliers and other foreign devices) over skin tight black pants. She was obviously going out and I had a good idea at what she would be doing.

Thinking quickly I rematerialized behind her.

She turned around almost immediately, red in the face. "Jeez, why are you still hanging around? I thought I told you to get lost."

As usual half of it went over my head and I thought she might be trying to change the subject, so I decided to forget the preamble and just get to the point. I leaned against one of the posts of her bed and looked her up and down. If Susannah hadn't looked like a lady of the evening before she most certainly did now. She was in all black, _tight _black, with the exception of a baggy, hooded sweater.

"It's a little late to be going out, don't you think Susannah?"

She lowered her hood. "No offense, Jesse, but this is my room. How about you try getting out of it? And my business, too, please?"

I was sure of it now. She was going to do something brash. I leaned unmoving on her bed.

"Your mother won't like your going out so late at night."

If I hadn't already been dead her look would killed me. She stuck out her chin stubbornly like my youngest sister Andrea used to do when she was indignant. "My mother. What would _you_ know about my mother?"

"I like your mother very much," I said calmly, "She is a good woman. You are very lucky to have a mother who loves you so very much. It would upset her I think, to see you putting yourself in the path of danger."

Susannah didn't quite meet my eye. "Yeah, well, news flash, Jesse. I've been sneaking out at night for a long time, and my mom's never said boo about it before. She knows I can take care of myself."

She had lied. I was quite sure of it. I felt my eyebrow arch up seemingly of its own accord.

"Can you?"

She was watching me intently.

"I don't think so, _querida. _Not in this case."

_Querida. _Dearest One. I use to call my sisters it all the time, but I wasn't sure how it slipped out this time. Sure Susannah was pretty and brave but I had also observed that she was needlessly stubborn.

On a second thought _querida _fit perfectly.

She scowled, holding her hands behind her back.

"Okay. Number one, don't call me stuff in Spanish. Number two, you don't even know where I'm going, so I suggest you just get off my back."

"But I do know where you're going, Susannah. You are going down to the school to talk to the girl who is trying to kill that boy, that boy you seem… fond of. But I'm telling you, _querida, _she is too much for you to handle alone. If you must go, you ought to have that priest with you."

I realized the second the words had left my lips that I had done something wrong. The poor girl's eyes were huge. I straightened up immediately.

"What?" she sputtered. "How could you know all that? Are you… are you _stalking _me?"

"I don't know what that word means, _stalking._ All I know is that you're walking into harm's way."

"You've been following me," she said, jabbing a finger in my face. "Haven't you? God, Jesse, I already have an older brother, thank you very much. I don't need you going around spying­…"

If she was talking about Jake then that _muchacha_ had to be crazy. My voice dripping with sarcasm I said, "Oh, yes. This brother cares for you very much. Almost as much as he cares about his sleep."

Susannah looked as though she might laugh but then straightened and said, "Hey! He works nights, okay? He's saving up for a Camaro!"

_How can one woman be so stubborn! _

I stepped in front of her. "You aren't going anywhere."

"Oh, yeah?" she huffed, "Try and stop me cadaver breath." She turned and stormed towards the door.

_Cadaver breath?_

The combined force of my frustration and concern took over. Just as Susannah's hand slid over the doorknob I slid the forgotten dead bolt into place. I could tell from the look on her face that she hadn't known there was a deadbolt. She jiggled the door for a few moments before she stopped and took a deep breath.

She turned around slowly. "Okay, Jesse. This is way uncool."

"I can't," I said. "Susannah. Don't go. This woman… this girl, Heather. She isn't like the other spirits you might have known in the past. She's filled with hate. She'll kill you if you can."

Susannah forced a smile. "Then it's up to me to get rid of her, right? Come on. Unlock the door now."

I felt uncomfortable with her staring at me like that… with a mixture of alarm, anger and something else. For a moment I considered just letting her go but then I remembered Heather. How casually she had talked about killing Bryce! She didn't even seem to care if anybody else got hurt. I couldn't let her go.

My decision must have shown on my face because she sighed, "Suit yourself," and walked right around me. She was climbing out the window.

Without even thinking I reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"Susannah."

She didn't look me in the eyes. Instead she looked down at my hand, the look of disgust evident on her face.

Remembering myself I jerked away. She was a girl, a _living _girl. I shouldn't have touched her.

In that second she managed to climb half way down. I watched for a moment and then decided what I had to do. Even if it meant facing the fires of Hell I wouldn't let somebody else die.

**a/n: read and review**


	5. Un Demonio

**a/n: I just finished an insufferably long math project. My brain hurts. I hope it doesn't show in my writing. Insert usual disclaimer here. **

Un Demonio

It was obvious that there was nothing I could do to keepSusannah from the Mission. She was insufferably stubborn and while I did not doubt her bravery… her sanity left something to be questioned. But as I materialized outside the Mission I couldn't help but to wonder if I was the wrong one. Maybe Susannah _had_ dealt with spirits like this before.

I doubted it.

Shaking my head, I scanned the parking lot. She wasn't there yet and I realized that if I remained there she would see me as she pedaled in. With I sigh I rematerialized on top of the breeze way where I could press myself flat and go unseen. I would watch first and then step in if things got violent.

I had been laying there for fifteen minutes when I began to wonder if she would even make it to the Mission. She had been wearing all black, not exactly visible. What if she had been hit by one of those… what do you call them? Oh, yes cars?

But my worries were placated moments later when I heard the tinkling of breaking glass from the breezeway opposite mine. It was her breaking in. A minute later I saw her peek out of one of the classrooms, gazing around appraisingly.

Heather materialized behind her.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

Susannah spun around, lowering her hood. Speaking quickly she said, "Heather. Hi. I'm sorry to bother you but I really think we need to talk, you and I."

Heather's eyes narrowed.

"Talk? Oh,yeah. Like I really want to talk to _you_. I know about you, _Susie."_

"It's Suze." Her tone was flat.

"Whatever. I know what you're doing here."

"Well, good," Susannah said, gesturing towards a bench. "Then I don't have to explain. You want to sit down so we can talk?"

I saw Heather darken and I sure hoped Susannah knew what she was doing. "Talk? Why would I want to talk to _you? _What do you think I am, stupid? God, you think you're so sly. You think you can just move right in, don't you?"

Susannah looked surprised. "I beg your pardon?"

"Into my place." Heather straightened and stepped away from the locker, walking toward the courtyard as if she was admiring the fountain. "You, the new girl. The new girl who thinks she can just slip right into the place I left behind. You've already got my locker. You're on your way to stealing my best friend. I know Kelly called you and asked you to her stupid party. And now you think you can steal my boyfriend."

Susannah's face turned red and she placed her hands squarely on her hips. "He's not your boyfriend, Heather, remember? He broke up with you. That's why you're dead. You blew you brains out in front of his mother."

I winced where I hid. How could Susannah be so forward?

I watched as Heather's eyes widened. "Shut up."

Susannah obviously didn't know how to stop while she was ahead because she continued. "You blew your brains out in front of his mother because you were too stupid to realize that no boy, not evern Bryce Martinson, is worth dying for."

She walked past her, out from under the breeze way. As she did she glanced nervously at it, seeming to remember the day's previous event.

"Boy, you must have been mad when you realized what you'd done. Killed yourself. And over something so stupid. Because of a guy."

"Shut up!"

I clamped my hands over my ears. Even so my ears were ringing afterward. God, I really hoped Susannah new what she was doing.

Susannah remained composed, "It's no use your screaming like that. No one but me can hear it."

"I'll scream all I want," Heather shouted and then let out a blood curdling shriek.

And then believe it or not Susannah yawned and went to sit down on one of the wooden benches by Father Serra's statue. She didn't even seem to hear Heather and the she-ghost had noticed.

"Are you listening to me?" Heather screamed.

Susannah looked her squarely in the eyes and said quite calmly, "Do you know what the word _abnegation _means?"

There was no doubt now. Susannah was insane. And she had just angered a demon.

Heather strode forward, her face a mask of rage. Stopping just a foot away she said, "Listen to me, you bitch. I want you gone, do you understand? I want you out of this school. That is _my_ locker. Kelly Prescott is _my _best friend. And Bryce Martinson is _my _boyfriend! You get out, you go back to where you came from. Every thing was just fine before you got here…."

Susannah interrupted so boldly that I couldn't help but to wince again.

"I'm sorry, Heather, but everything was _not_ just fine when I got here. You know how I know that? Because you're dead. Okay? _You are dead. _Dead people don't have lockers, or best friends or boyfriends. You know why? Because they're dead. Now, I know you made a mistake. You made a horrible, terrible mistake…"

"I'm not the one who made the mistake," the ghost interrupted, "Bryce made the mistake. Bryce is the one who broke up with me."

"Yeah, well, that wasn't the mistake I was talking about. I was talking about you shooting yourself because a stupid boy broke up with…"

"If you think he's so stupid," Heather snapped, "Why are you going out with him on Saturday? That's right. I heard him ask you out. The rat. He probably wasn't faithful a day the whole time we were going out."

Susannah rolled her eyes. "Oh, well, that's just great. All the more reason for you to kill yourself over him.

Heather began to cry. I didn't feel all too sympathetic.

But Heather had not done anything threatening yet. She had shown no violence. Was Susannah's brash tongue doing the trick?

"I loved him," Heather whispered, "If I couldn't have him, I didn't want to live."

"And now that you're dead you figure he ought to join you right?" Susannah stated. She sounded annoyed.

"I don't like it here," Heather breathed, "No one can see me. Just you and F-father Dominic. I get so lonely…."

"Right," came the quick reply. "That's understandable. But Heather even if you do manage to kill him, he probably isn't going to like you for it much."

"I can make him like me," Heather said confidently. "After all, it'll just be me and him. He'll have to like me."

Susannah shook her head. "No, Heather. It doesn't work that way."

Heather stared at Susannah. "What do you mean?"

This was actually a question I'd like answered myself. Why me? Why had I been sentenced to purgatory for over a century?

"If you kill Bryce, there's no guarantee he'll end up here with you. What happens to people after they die, well, I'm not sure, but I think it's different for everyone. If you kill Bryce, he'll go to wherever he's supposed to go. Heaven, hell, his next life, I don't know for sure. But I do know he won't end up here with you. It doesn't work that way."

"But… but that's not fair."

"No," I whispered softly, "No it's not fair when you don't have a choice."

Nobody heard me and Susannah continued, "Lots of things aren't fair, Heather. It isn't fair for example that you have to suffer for all eternity for a mistake that you made in the heat of the moment. I'm sure if you'd known what it was like to be dead, you never would have killed yourself. But, Heather, it doesn't have to be this way?"

_It doesn't have to be this way. _What did she mean?

"It doesn't?"

"No. It doesn't."

"You mean…. You mean I can go back?"

"You can. You can start over."

"How?"

"All you have to do is make up your mind to do it."

That's when I realized things were about to go downhill.

A scowl became fixed on Heather's face. "But I already made up my mind that that's what I want. All I've wanted since it… since it happened… was to get my life back.

"No, Heather, you misunderstood me. You can never have your life, you old life, back. But you can start a new one. That's got to be better than this, than being here all by yourself forever, storming around in rage, hurting people."

"You said I could get my life back!"

Susannah visibly paled, as if she had just realized that she was losing the battle. "I didn't mean you old life." She said, her voice raising an octave. "I just meant _a _life!"

"You told me, you told me I could get my life back! You lied to me!"

"Heather, I didn't lie. I just meant that your life, well your life is over. Heather, you ended it yourself. I know that sucks, but hey, you should have thought of that…."

"I won't let you. I won't let you take over my life!"

"Heather." She squeaked, "I told you, I'm not trying to. I have my own life. I don't need yours…"

The court yard went silent and then I felt a dull itch by my nose. Suddenly I realized that I was feeling Heather's kinetic energy boil over. Everything was starting to shake but not from one of Carmel-by-the-sea's many earthquakes. I knew when the water in the fountain began boil that I should probably intervene.

So much for Miss Susannah, the expert mediator.

"Heather, Heather, listen to me. You've got to calm down. We can't talk when you're…."

She let out a muffled shriek as Heather's eyes rolled back. "You… said… I…. could…. Start…. Over!"

Lifting myself from the top of the breezeway I knew that Heather could not be ghost.

She was _una demonia. _A demon.

It was at that moment that Susannah realized she was in danger. She jumped off the bench, diving away as it flew threw the air. Then she leapt forward and punched Heather in the chin.

_Chica estupida, _did she really think that that would stop her?

Heather didn't flinch.

"You are going to be sorry now."

Two things happened at once. Jets of boiling water shot up high in the air. That and the head of Juniper Serra snapped from its body and flew at Susannah.

Why wasn't she moving? Why did she just stand there?

I did it without thinking. I dived off the breeze way and knocked Susannah out of harm's way. The scary part was she didn't even seem to realize I was there. No, instead she just laid there, an eerie smile on her face. Had she somehow hit her head?

"Get up!" I growled, more out of fear than anger. Had I killed her? "I thought you were good at this!"

Junipo Serra's head impacted just inches away. Not even seeing if she was alright I yanked Susannah to her feet and jerked her away, dragging her towards the classroom she had emerged from. All the while the head whistled behind us. I heard it thud as it hit the door I had just shut.

"_Jesucrìsto.' _I can take care of myself,' you said. 'I'll just have to get rid of her first,' you told me. Right!"

"Shut up," she said feebly.

I looked down at her and saw she was still breathing hard, her eyes wide in shock.

"Cadaver breath, Do you realize that's what you called me? That hurt you know, _querida_. It really hurt."

"I told you," she began tiredly. Something rammed into the door behind us. The impact rattled me.

"…not to call me that."

"Well, I would appreciate if you didn't make disparaging remarks about my…"

Susannah cut in. "Look this door isn't going to hold up forever."

I looked down to the metal nose of the head as it managed to break through. Feeling shaken I said, "No, may I make a suggestion?"

Susannah was, too, staring wide-eyed at the head.

"Sure," she squeaked.

"Run."

**a/n: review chapter six should be up some time tomorrow**


	6. La Sangre

**a/n: erm…. I don't own the Mediator… but Jesse _is _still tied up in my closet. Mwahahahaha!**

La Sangre

Susannah wasted no time. She flung herself towards the window, not even paying attention to the shards of glass she had left littering the ground. As she did the Father's head rammed into the door again. Susannah was fumbling with the window.

"Uh, hurry, please?"

She gave me one last glance and jumped down into the parking lot.

The howling winds stopped as suddenly as they started. Heather had realized that Susannah was no longer in the Mission. As if sensing defeat the metal head fell with a dull thud to the ground behind me. It felt as if time had stopped.

Still breathing hard I rematerialized outside the school.

I had expected Susannah to be hightailing it home on her bike. Instead I was surprised to see her screaming hissing through the window, "Jesse, come on!"

She hopped nervously and then shouted, "Jesse!"

I was flattered but still alarmed. Heather could still be coming and while I couldn't die Susannah could.

"I thought I told you to run."

She gasped and spun around, clutching her heart. "Oh my God."

And then she did something I will never forget. She reached out and grabbed my shirt. "Oh my God, Jesse. Are you alright?"

Her heart was beating so fast that I could feel it through my shirt. Her hands shook as she grabbed at my shirt. I didn't know she cared so much. She had more or less threatened to kick me out of my home our previous two encounters.

"Of course I'm all right. Are _you_ all right?"

"_Me? _I'm fine."

She glanced nervously at the darkened window.

Her voice shook. "Do you think she's… done?"

I couldn't feel the electric crackle of Heather's anger anymore. "For now."

"How do you know? How do you know she won't come bursting through that wall there and start uprooting all those trees and hurling them at us?"

I actually smiled, she was talking _so_ fast. I felt kind of cruel about it. I mean… the poor girl had been through an ordeal. I shouldn't be laughing at her. I shook my head, trying to regain my nobility.

"She won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because she won't. She doesn't know she can. She's too new at all this, Susannah. She doesn't know yet all that she can do."

_I hope…_

My answer didn't exactly cool her frantic nerves. She looked alarmed that Heather might be able to hurl trees at all, even if it did take her some practice.

She pulled away and started pacing the parking lot, a crazed look in her eyes.

"We've got to do something. We've got to warn Father Dominic and Bryce. My God, we've got to warn Bryce not to come to school tomorrow. She'll kill him the minute he sets foot on campus."

"Susannah."

"I guess we could call him. It's one in the morning, but we could call him. We could tell him there's been a death threat on him or something. That might work. Or… we could _leave_ a death threat. Yeah, that's what we could do! We could call his house and I could disguise my voice, and I could be like, 'Don't come to school tomorrow, or you'll die.' Maybe he'd listen. Maybe he'd…"

"Susannah."

"Or we could have Father Dom do it! We could have Father Dom call Bryce and tell him not to come to school, that there's been some kind of accident or something…"

"Susannah."

I stepped in front of her grabbing her arms to steady her.

"Susannah, It's all right. It's not your fault. There was nothing you could do."

Her eyes were still crazed.

"Nothing I could do? Are you kidding me? I should have kicked that girl back into her grave!"

_How had she survived all these years with that mentality?_

"No," I said, shaking my head. "She'd have killed you."

Her eyes were still panicked but had lost some of their fire. Uncertainty was in it's depths.

"Bull! I could have taken her. If she hadn't done that thing with that guy's head…"

_Green. _Her eyes were the greenest green I had ever seen.

"Susannah."

"I mean it, Jesse, I could totally have handled her if she hadn't gotten so mad. I bet if I just wait a little while until she's calmed down and go back in there, I can talk her into…"

Her eyes, green they were green, had been drifting back towards the thick adobe walls of the Mission.

"No," I said in my firmest voice, a voice I had used to use on my youngest sister Alejandra when she wanted to ride Vienta, my mare who had been way too big for the little girl. If she had fallen she could have been hurt easily.

Just like now. If Susannah went back into that school she would be killed. There was no doubt in my mind.

I wrapped one of my arms around her shoulder and began steering her away from the school.

"Come on. Let's go home."

"But what about."

I felt her muscles tense to fight. I gripped her tighter.

"No." I said in my firm voice.

Still shaking a little the girl said, "Jesse, you don't understand. This is my _job. _I have to."

The priest, he was a mediator too. What had Heather said his name was?

"It's Father Dominic's job, too, no? Let him take it from here. There's no reason why you have to be burdened with all the responsibility yourself."

She sighed. "Yes, there is. I'm the one who screwed up."

She had only been trying to help and now she was punishing herself? Heather had chosen what she had gotten.

"You put the gun to her head and pulled the trigger?"

She looked horrified.

"Of course not. But I'm the one who got her so mad. Father Dom didn't. I can't ask Father Dom to clean up my messes. That is totally unfair."

_Unfair. _My death had been unfair.

I shook my head.

"What is _totally unfair_, is for anyone to expect a young girl like yourself to do battle with a demon from Hell like…"

Her green eyes flared.

"She isn't a demon from hell. She's just mad. She's mad because the one guy she thought she could trust turned out to be a…."

I felt something wet trickle down my arm. I looked down at my shirt. It was covered with blood.

"Susannah."

I jerked to a stop and pulled her close to me inspecting her. Looking around I saw that she had left a trail of tiny droplets of blood. Finally I found a source.

Her wrist.

"You're bleeding."

Her eyes popped wide open.

"I am not."

Then she looked down, her eyes registering the smallish stains on the pavement below. They looked black in the moonlight. Searching herself she found the source of the flow.

"Oh," she said, watching it trickle. "What a mess. I'm sorry about your shirt."

"It's nothing."

And then without even realizing what I was doing I reached into one of my pockets and pulled out Maria's handkerchief. God, how I hated it, but it would make a decent bandage. It was painful watching anybodies life blood flowing out of them. Blood hadn't bothered me when I was alive but now….

I gently wrapped it around the lady's wrist a few times and then tied it into place.

"There, Does that hurt?"

Looking into her eyes I realized that she was watching me with fascination, hardly breathing.

"No." She cleared her throat nervously. "Thanks."

Feeling a little embarrassed, I had cured worse hurts sore feet at the top of the list, I just said, "It's nothing."

"No," she said. I suddenly noticed that glint women get in their eyes before they cry. Living with six sisters I had seen it many a time.

"I mean it." She said, "Thanks. Thanks for coming out here to help me. You shouldn't have done it. I mean, I'm glad you did. And… well, that's. That's all."

I fidgeted uncomfortably. It was strange. One moment she seems to hate me and then the next she is thanking me profusely for saving her life.

Even after one hundred and seventy years I still did not understand women.

So all I said was, "Never mind."

I stared down the empty road. At one time Carmel's hills had just been exactly that, hill. There had been no cars or neon lights. Women dressed like women. Most men were gentlemen.

"Let's go home," I added softly, wondering if this ever could truly be my home again.


	7. Las Memorias

**a/n: I woke up this morning to find that Jesse has gnawed through his bonds and sadly escaped. There will be a time of mourning scheduled for later this week. Also, I don't own Mediator nor do I own "The Mourning Bride" by William Congreve. The poem Jesse recites mentally is straight from the play.**

Las Memorias

We walked in silence for a long while, me pushing the young lady's bike. I knew her arm was probably sore, even if she didn't want to admit it. From what I seen so far of her Susannah was excessively stubborn.

I glance down and was alarmed to see confusion etched on her face. Was she still thinking about Heather? I knew she felt responsible for Heather but she shouldn't. The girl was only sixteen; the age Marta had been when I had died. Marta would have never assumed it as her duty to destroy a demon. Marta was content to work on her cross stitch and cooking. She trained to be a good wife and before long she had become one.

_Before I watched her whither away. She'd given birth to a still-born and then died within the week. All my sisters had died eventually but the one I had been closest to, Marta, had died first. _

God, how could it have happened? Why couldn't I have been alive to comfort her? What kind of brother was I? What kind of son?

_Madre wrapped in white linens calling for her son as she lay on her death bed. I had been there. Nothing could have kept me away. But she couldn't see me. I held her hand as she died and I felt her body go cold._

_Padre was shot by bandits. I should have been there. I should have been there, helping protect the ranch. Before I had died my father and I had never agreed. I wanted to be a doctor and I knew father could never understand that. I never told him. The last time I had told him I loved him was when I was ten._

_But oh how I sobbed it when he fell. I had not known the extent of my powers then. I could only stand and watch as the light left my father's eyes. Watch and whisper. Whisper, "Te amo, Padre… te amo…"_

It had all happened over a century ago. But now, since Susannah came, the hollowness I had felt after watching my family go was beginning to ebb. I was surprised to find that however painful the waking dreams were I lapped them up gladly. The feelings were filling me. I found if I didn't flinch from them they gave me sustenance. They gave me purpose. There had to be a good reason I was still here. There had to be a reason God would leave me here, alone, a shadow.

A reason that did not involve killing out of revenge and spitefulness….

And then for some reason William Congreve's "The Mourning Bride" popped into my head. It had been one of the first plays I had read after I had died; I had stolen it from the trunk of a traveling statesmen. I remember being fascinated. Never before had I seen such… such beauty in words.

_As you'll answer it, take heed  
This Slave commit no Violence upon  
Himself. I've been deceiv'd. The Publick Safety  
Requires he should be more confin'd; and none,  
No not the Princes self, permitted to  
Confer with him. I'll quit you to the King.  
Vile and ingrate! too late thou shalt repent  
The base Injustice thou hast done my Love:  
Yes, thou shalt know, spite of thy past Distress,  
And all those Ills which thou so long hast mourn'd;  
_

"Heav'n has no Rage, like Love to Hatred turn'd, nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd…" I said softly, breaking our silence.

Susannah looked up at me curiously. "Are you speaking from experience?"

I smiled ruefully. I had been quoting William Congreve but now that I thought of it… Maria must have known I was going to call off the engagement. That might have been one of the reasons she had been so quick to have me killed.

"Actually," I said, "I am quoting William Congreve."

Susannah looked thoughtful. "Oh," she said after a moment, adding, "But you know, sometimes a scorned woman has every right to be mad."

"Are _you_ speaking from experience?"

I was surprised to hear her snort then add flatly, "Not hardly." She blushed slightly and then said, "But we don't know what went on between Heather and Bryce, not really. I mean she could have every right to be resentful.

_What did _you_ ever do to her? What have _you_ done to deserve death? Maybe Bryce. Not _you, _querida._

"Toward him, I suppose she does," I said with a sigh. "But not towards _you._ She had no right to try to hurt _you._"

Susannah didn't reply to that. We had arrived at the gravel at the base of her driveway. We had been climbing for a couple minutes before she said softly, "Hey. How'd you die anyway?"

I didn't answer at first, only stared at Susannah's home. It had once been a boardinghouse. I had been on my way to call off and engagement when… I had died. I don't know how it happened; only that it had.

I had so many questions myself. How could I answer Susannah's?

After a while Susannah said, "Um, you know what? Never mind. If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to."

"No," I said, "It's all right." My death wasn't quite has touchy as had use to be. Maybe it was the fact that I had a century and a half to get used to it.

"I was kind of curious, that's all. But if it's too personal."

"It isn't too personal." We had reached the house and I placed the bike where I had seen the Ackerman boys put it.

"You know this house wasn't always a family home." I said.

"Oh, really?" Susannah asked a little too brightly.

"Yes." I said looking off toward the sea. _The only thing that hadn't changed. El sòlo cosa enterna. _

"And… something happened while you were staying here?"

"Yes." I glance back at Susannah. There were bags under her eyes. She wasn't just pretty, I realized then. Even with the bags under her eyes she was very beautiful. Her eyes were so green. So determined.

And strangely enough, I suddenly felt tired myself. For the first time in one hundred and fifty years I felt tired.

I could have laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all.

Deciding that the tale of my death could wait I said, "But it's a long story and you must be very tired. Go to bed. In the morning we will decide what to do about Heather." I added just to appease her.

"Wait a minute! I am not going anywhere until you finish that story."

I shook my head, "No. It's too late. I'll tell you some other time."

"Jeez! You can't just start a story and then not finish it," she whined, "You have too…"

She sounded so much like one of my little sisters that I could not help laughing. She sounded like Alejandra at bedtime. Yes, Alejandra.

"Go to bed, Susannah." I gave her a gentle push towards the front steps. "You have had enough scaring for one night."

"But you…"

"Some other time," I said firmly.

Susannah turned and looked me squarely in the eyes. "Do you promise?"

I smiled at her. "I promise. Good night, _querida."_

And it actually made me happy when she replied, "I told you not to call me that."

**a/n: review!**


	8. Desesperado

**a/n: Thanks for all the great reviews. I needed them. Alas I had a nervous break down this morning: my car broke down, I failed miserably on the Theory Test at a Band competion thus probably losing my first chair privileges, woke up to find that my lap top was nonresponsive and virus ridden. I'm not having a good day. My only outlet is writing (this chapter is being typed quickly on my sister's computer which I was horrified to find doesn't have spell check) fanfiction at the moment. That and I might get a lift to Star Bucks later. A Venti Caramel Frappacino should calm my frazzled nerves. Anyways, I'm not Meg Cabot and I don't own The Mediator. I'm just expanding onto Meg's brilliant world.**

Chapter Eight: Desesperado

Of course Susannah and I didn't end up discussing Heather in the morning. That was because I was confronted by Heather shortly before sunrise.

I had been sitting in Susannah's room, reading "Jane Eyre" by my dim light. Every once in a while I would glance up and watch Susannah sleep. What was she dreaming of? Did she remember her dreams? Waking dreams would then fill _my_ mind and I would have to tear myself away and continue reading my novel.

It was shortly before sunrise when it happened. I had just been about to wake Susannah up, she needed to warn Father Dominic after all, when I felt my nose itch. It was the same sensation I was coming to indentify with Kinetic energy, the power the dead gave off if they were angry or about to fling something across the room.

I jumped up, setting down my novel and looking around.

Nothing.

I glanced out the window.

Again there was nothing at all to suggest anything out of the ordinary.

And abruptly the itching stopped.

Walking away from the window I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, finally resting my hands in my pockets. I winced as they came in contact with a soft square of cloth.

I pulled it out and there was the handkerchief, the fine white letters, M. D. S., stitched in the cloth. I cruppled it up and threw it to the ground.

"Will you always haunt me?" I spat, pacing the floor.

I needed to get away. Just for a second, I needed solace.

And that was how I ended up, for the second time that night, at the Mission. Only this time I was kneeling before the alter, my head bowed in prayer.

_"O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell, but most of all because they offend thee, my God, who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of thy grace, to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life."_

It was the tradiontial prayer of contrition. The prayer for forgiveness of sin. I still did not yet know what I had done but imagined whatever it was must have been huge for God to have forsaken me all these years.

I continued, "_O Jesus, through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer you my prayers, works, joys, and sufferings of this day in union with the holy sacrifice of the Mass throughout the world. I offer them for all the intentions of your sacred heart: the salvation of souls, reparation for sin, the reunion of all Christians. I offer them for the intentions of our bishops and of all the apostles of prayer, and in particular for those recommended by our Holy Father this month."_

I finished in a whisper, "_Amen."_

And broke into tears right there at the alter.

It had been years since I had said my morning prayers on the alter. They had eventually faded out of my routine. Was that why I was still here? Was this all just a test? If it was I had failed miserably. I had forgotten my faith.

­­­­­-----------

Brushing off phantom tears I made my way out into the court yard. Heather was sitting on an upturned bench, looking pouty. Her head snapped up as I entered.

"You interfered. You saved her. If you hadn't been there she'd be dead now," she hissed.

I chose to ignore her and started to walk past. I was already dead. She couldn't do anything to me.

As I passed she jumped up and grabbed my wrist. I recoiled and jerked away.

"Don't touch me."

Heather crossed her arms, looking annoyed.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you touching me."

"No," Heather said, rolling her eyes. "Why did you save her? I saw how you looked at her. It's so cold here. So empty. She's alive. You're dead. Why should you have to be cold alone?"

I backed away from her.

"I do not know of what you speak," even though I was perfectly aware of what she was suggesting, but what she was suggesting was so horrible... I shuddered.

Heather's eyes glinted, seeing that involuntary action.

"You know what, cowboy," she said smuggly, "I get the feeling you don't like me and that's fine with me because I most certainly don't like you... or that little biotche you insist on protecting. But let me tell you, if I ever see her with Bryce again..."

She made a slicing action across her throat.

"... I'll make sure you won't be there to save her."

And then she dematerialized, leaving me alone in the ruined court yard.

**a/n: review! **


	9. Un Exorcismo

**a/n: I have officially decided you guys are awesome. And yes, in response to reviews I have decided that I'm going to continue through out the entire series. The sequel (it'll probably be called _Rojo_ or something to that effect) will probably be up shortly after I finish _Eterno,_ which should be completed sometime next week (translation: Monday at the latest). Somebody commented that I'm a fast updater. It's true, I like posting as soon as I finish writing. I'm OCD like that. My friend Katy (who writes X-Men fics) tells me I'm going about it the completely wrong way. She said to fish for reviews I need to keep ya'll waiting. Well, that seems innately cruel to me, no offense Katy. I figure if you have it why not share it? Also I don't own The Mediator**

Chapter Nine: Exorcismo

I don't know why what Heather said bothered me so. I regarded Susannah at most like a little sister. Somebody who did not yet know what was best for her and needed guidance of an elder brother, as her own elder brothers did not seem to care about her. She was certainly not of any... _love_ interest to me. She was at most just the girl living in the room where I was murdered.

I don't know why it bothered me.

But it did.

I left the court yard shortly after Heather. The clergy would be waking up shortly for matins and I didn't want Father Dominic to see me and blame _me_ for the mess. While I had been praying I realized the sky had lightened considerably. When I rematerialized outside Susannah's room I also realized that our chance to warn Bryce away from the Mission was also up. Even though Susannah was just stumbling out of bed as I appeared I knew that Bryce would probably be on his way by now.

I had a nagging feeling that nothing good could come of this.

As the Ackerman boys and Susannah left for school I could not help but to feel a little helpless. I would have followed Susannah to school but I doubted that she would like that very much. One thing I had noticed about her was that she was very, very stubborn. If it was even suggested that she might need help she got defensive. She did not like people thinking that she was weak. In my time women were expected to be weak. When Susannah had first denied my help it had been a blow to my ego.

And there was also that priest to be taken into consideration. While I hardly had any... ungentlemanly intentions with Susannah, I doubted that the Father would see it that way.

I was so anxious as I saw their car roll away that I didn't even get a book to read. No, I just gently pried the window open and sat at the seat, watching the fog roll over the hills and listening to the distant crashing of waves. Slowly the fog thinned and the sun warmed the window seat. I use to love the sun. Now when it shined down on me I seemed dimmer, less substantial.

I moved away from the window seat and began to pace. At one point I felt a tug, but I ignored it.

-----------

I went to the beach shortly before Susannah came home and stayed there until midnight, watching the waves roll in and crash on the beach. The sand sloped steeply here and I took peace in the full moon.

You can imagine my surprise when I found Susannah jumping off the roof when I returned.

I knew she couldn't possibly be going back to the Mission. That would be insane. I had hoped that last night's expirience might knock some sense into her.

Had Susannah found a young man? I didn't like young men in this century... they were too bold, but if they could do a better job of restraining her...

"Okay," Susannah said after spotting me, "Let's get one thing straight now. You are not going to show up down at the Mission tonight. Got that? You show up down there, and you're going to be very, very sorry."

Okay, so it wasn't a guy.

"I mean it," she said, "It's going to be a bad night for ghosts. Real bad. So I wouldn't show up down there if I were you."

The girl _was_ insane. Either that or she had a death wish.

"Susannah, what are you up to?"

"Nothing," she marched over to the carport and grabbed her brother's bike. "I just got some things to settle."

I almost cringed. "With Heather?"

"Right. With Heather. I know things got out of hand last time, but this time things are going to be different."

"How precisely?" You are going to be seriously injured this time before I rescue you? I thought morbidly.

Susannah sighed, "Okay, I'll level with you. I'm going to perform an exorcism."

I felt myself go numb.

_An exorcism? _If anybody deserved it Heather did, but wouldn't that be dangerous?

I reached out and grabbed the bike. "A _what?_"

Susannah swallowed, showing a bit more of her vulnerablity then she probably would have like. Her voice was devoid of emotion when she said, "You can't help me. You can't go down there tonight, Jesse, or you might get exorcized too."

The was no doubt. The fact that I had been contemplating the past few days was confirmed.

"You are insane."

"Probably," she said quietly, looking off at the moon.

"She'll kill you. Don't you understand? That's what she wants."

The image of Heather sliding her finger over her throat played in my head. Over and over and over...

"No," Susannah shook her head, "She doesn't want to kill me. She wants to kill everybody I care about first. _Then_ she wants to kill me."

I wasn't sure but I could have sworn I heard her sniff with pent up emotion.

"But I'm not going to let her, see?" she continued, "I'm going to stop her. Now let go of my bike."

I shook my head. I couldn't. I would be sentancing her to death. "No. No. Even you wouldn't be so stupid."

"Even me? Thanks."

"Does the priest know about this Susannah? Did you tell the priest?"

"Um sure. He knows. He's, uh, meeting me there."

"The priest is meeting you there?" I asked, not quite sure whether to believe her or not.

"Yeah, uh-huh," she laughed nervously. "You don't think I'd try something like this on my own, do you? I mean, jeez, I'm not _that_ stupid, no matter what you might think."

I relaxed a little. "Well, if the priest will be there..."

"Sure, sure he will." she said a little too quickly, a little too distantly.

"You're lying, aren't you? The priest isn't going to be there at all. She hurt him didn't she? This morning? I thought so. Did she kill him?" It would certainly explain the tug I felt this morning. Would I always feel it when a mediator was near? Or in danger?

Susannah shook her head, her eyes shiney with unshed tears.

"That's why you're so angry. I should have known. You're going down there to get even with her for what she did to the priest."

I was surprised when she exploded, "So what if I am? She deserves it!"

I gripped her bike tighter. "Susannah, this isn't the way. This wasn't why you were given this extraordinary gift, not so you could do things like..."

"Gift!" she choked out, "Yeah, that's right, Jesse. I've been given a precious gift. Well, you know what? I'm sick of it. I really am. I thought coming here, I'd be able to make a new start. I thought things might be different. And you know what? They are," she hissed, "They're _worse."_

I was frightened by the anger in her words. The hate. "Susannah..."

"What am I supposed to do, Jesse? Love Heather for what she did? Embrace her wounded spirit? I'm sorry, but that's impossible. Mayber Father Dom could do it, but not me, and he's out of commission, so we're going to do things _my_ way. I'm going to get rid of her, and if you know what's good for you, Jesse, you'll stay _away!"_

With that she gave the kickstand a vicious kick and jerked the handle bars away. A second later she was off. Off to her death, I was afraid.

"_Maldecirlo! Conducirlo! Ella tiene una deseo de muerte!"_

Susannah's peddling figure disappeared over the hill.

**a/n: review! Por favor!**


	10. El Espectro Suyo

**a/n: the day got better after lunch thankfully. I hope you like these last two chapters of _Eterno_ before I go on with posting _Rojo._ I'm probably going to take a couple days off though (translation: you're likely to see _Rojo _up some time Monday afternoon). Anyways, the usual disclaimer goes here I suppose. I am not Meg Cabot, although sometimes I wish I was. Such talent... (goes misty eyed) P.s. The title of this chapter translates roughly to, 'the ghost of his', refering to, of course, David's ghost. **

Chapter Ten: El Espectro Suyo

I wanted to follow her but I couldn't. What if I got exorcised before I could even save Susannah? What if I got exorcised and God punished me for not fulfilling my task?

What if Susannah died because I was a coward?

There were too many _what if's _to even really matter. I had to do something, but what? Father Dominic was, as Susannah said, 'out of commission'. Who else knew Susannah? Who else knew Susannah who could see me?

I felt my kinetic energy boil over in panic and I watched as one of Andy's tool manuals flew off the shelf of the car port. It landed some twenty feet away. Startled I watched it for a moment. _Had I really lost control? _I wondered. _Had I really sent that book flying with out realizing it?_

I stared at the cover of the manual for a moment. A cross cut of a Ryob1 power drill was printed on the cover in orange ink. My brain didn't take it in. The gears within it were too busy churning.

Who else had lived in my room, albeit for a very short period of time? David Ackerman. He may not have seen _me,_ but he had, certainly, seen some of his books fly across his room whenever I had forgotten my self. He may not have seen _me, _but he knew I was there.

I materialized at the foot of the Ackerman's stairs and ran up them, ignoring the nervous growling of the dog as I passed through him. Running down the hall I belted into the youngest Ackerman boy's room. He was asleep of course, as any _sane_ human being would be, and drooling a little in his sleep. His hair was mussed with sleep and looked roughly the color of chopped carrots. He appeared to be a deep sleeper.

I would have to cure him of that.

Grabbing a book (_The Scarlet Letter_) from one of David's three book shelves I flung it across the room with all my might. It slammed dully against the wall and fell to the ground with a _thud_.

The boy jumped awake with a start, looking around franticly. Looking right through me...

_I had to make him see me, I had to! I could not let Susannah die. I hadn't known I could help Madre, or Padre or Marta but now I _do _know! I just have to make sure David could see me._

"David!" I shouted with my mind as well as my voice. There was no response. I concentrated fully on making myself visible, on saving Susannah. "David! Do you hear me! Please tell me you hear me!"

David's eyes stopped darting. They had settled on me.

"How do you know my name?" his voice shook, barely above a whisper.

"It doesn't matter!" I continued shouting. For all I knew the only reason he could hear me was because I was shouting. It could sound like a whisper to him. It didn't really matter.

I reached out and touched his shoulder. I felt him shudder.

"You're cold," he whispered.

I shook my head, "You have to go to the Mission! You have to help Susannah!"

David's logical side was obviously kicking in. "The Mission? How do you know Susannah is at the Mission?"

I grabbed his shoulder's again. "Go! Just please go! Help Susannah! If you don't she'll die!"

David visibly paled and he stumbled out of bed. His voice shook, "I- I'll go. I'll wake Brad and Jake and we'll go get her. Don't worry. We'll help."

"Hurry," I whispered.

David nodded and fled the bedroom.

--------

I was still pacing David's bedroom when I felt the ground shake. It wasn't I knew a natural earthquake, my nose felt as though it was on fire. It was supernatural, brimming with kinetic energy.

_Oh God, _I thought, burrying my head in my hands,_ please let Susannah be safe. I could not stand seeing another... friend die._

**a/n: Review! Pretty please?**


	11. Eterno

**a/n: thanks for the lurverly reviews and here is the last chapter of _Eterno. Rojo_ will be up soon, I promise. Anyways, I'm not Meg Cabot nor do I claim to to be!**

Chapter Eleven: Eterno

About one in the morning I heard a car engine outside. I darted to the window in time to see Susannah stumble out the car, looking exhausted. Her brother Jake was yelling at her. She did not appear to be paying the least bit of attention.

_She's safe, _I thought. _Thank you God, she's safe. _

Running my hands through my hair I could not help but to grin. She was safe. She hadn't die and I could not help but to feel that I had been a factor.

Still grinning I muttered the Prayer of St. Alphonsus.

_"Jesus Christ, my God, I adore Thee and I thank Thee for the many favors Thou hast bestowed on me this day. I offer Thee my sleep and all the moments of this night, and I pray Thee to preserve me from sin. Therefore, I place myself in Thy most sacred side, and under the mantle of our Blessed Lady, my Mother. May the holy Angels assist me and keep me in peace, and may Thy blessing be upon me."_

It was a prayer of thanks.

--------

I spent most of the day at the beach, watching the waves roll in.

_Eterno. _Timeless.

These waves would always beat upon this shore. Just as I would always walk along it. And while the stars may have faded, the sun would always shine, reflected on the clear blue waves of the Pacific.

_Eterno. _Changeless.

In the past few days, though, things _had_ changed. I felt like a different person, or maybe one reborn. I had waking dreams. I had... feelings.

I watched the sun begin to set, and then rematerialized next to Susannah in her room. To my surprise she was sitting in the window seat, watching the same sight I had been watching only moments ago.

She jumped, seeing me out the the corner of her eyes. She jumped but I also could have sworn I had seen her smile as well.

"Jeez! Do you have to keep _doing_ that?"

"I'm sorry."

"Look," she said, "If you and I are going to be living together, so to speak, we need to come up with some rules. And rule number one is that you have got to stop sneaking up on me like that!"

I smiled, this was a good one. "And how do you suggest I make my presence known?"

She sighed, "I don't know. Can't you rattle some chains or something?"

_Where would,_ I wondered,_ get chains? _

I shook my head. "I don't think so. What would rule number two be.?"

"Rule number two..." she trailed off. She didn't have a rule number two.

I raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong, _querida?"_

She just stared at me, a look in her eye that I could not discern.

And then something that had been bothering me popped out.

"Let me ask you something,"

"What?" she threw down the magazine she had been holding and stood up.

"Last night, when you warned me not to go near the school because you were doing an exorcism..."

She looked at me strangely, "Yes?"

"Why did you warn me?"

And to my great surprise she burst out laughing. "I warned you because if you'd gone down there you would have been sucked away just like Heather."

I was confused, "But wouldn't that have been a perfect way to get rid of me? You'd have this room to yourself, just the way you want it."

Susannah looked horrified, "But that... that would have been completely unfair."

I smiled, "I see. Against the rules?"

"Yeah," she said, "Big time."

"Then you didn't warn me... because you're starting to like me or anything like that?"

Her face turned red. _She likes me,_ I thought in wonder. I took a step towards her.

"No," she said stubbornly, "Nothing like that. I'm just trying to play by the rules.Which you violated, by the way, when you woke up David."

I took another step closer. "I had to. You'd warned me not to go down to the school myself. What choice did I have? If I hadn't sent your brother in my place, you'd be a bit dead now."

I had overheard Jake talking about the breezeway when they had gotten home at one.

The shade of red on her face deepened. "No way," she said, "I had things perfectly under control. I..."

_Under control? _I laughed. "You had nothing under control. You went barreling in there without any sort of plan, without any sort of..."

"I had a plan," she took a single furious step towards me, and suddenly we were standing nose to nose. "Who do you think you are, telling me I had no plan? I've been doing this for years, get it? Years. And I never needed help, not from anyone. And certainly not from someone like _you."_

_Oh no, was this the cowboy thing again? I had just saved her life and she was going to bring that up?_

"Someone like me? You mean... what is it you called me? A cowboy?"

"No," She said, her voice dripping with venom, "I mean from somebody who's _dead_."

I flinched.

"Let's make rule number two be that from now on, you stay out of my business, and I'll stay out of yours," she said.

"Fine," I said with equal rancor. I had just saved her life and this was how she wanted to act?

"Fine, and thank you." she added.

"For what?" I said sullenly.

Her voice got quiet. "For saving my life."

I stared at her for a moment in wonder.Without even thinking I reached out and laid my hand on her shoulders. I don't know what I was going to do but I was saved when I heard Susannah's mother.

"Susannah? Susie, it's Mom. I'm home."

I jerked away and dematerialized as Susannah's mother opened the door.

Oh, yes, times have changed. I have watched as roads were paved and as a great red dome was built over the Mission, hiding the bells from sight. I have even seen the stars grow dim.

But all of those things had changed without me.

And now I had a feeling, that I too, was along for the ride.

-------

_The Prayer To Redeem Lost Time_

_O MY GOD! Source of all mercy! I acknowledge Thy sovereign power.   
While recalling the wasted years that are past, I believe that Thou, Lord, can  
in an instant turn this loss to gain. Miserable as I am, yet I firmly believe that  
Thou can do all things. Please restore to me the time lost, giving me Thy grace,  
both now and the future, that I may appear before Thee in "wedding garments."   
Amen. _

**a/n: review... i hope you enjoyed it. **


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